"Oh, yes, my Mistress." Clint grunted, changing the angle, leaning down to pound her into the mattress with steady, deep thrusts.
"Your boy lives to make you feel good, Mistress," he said, panting, skin becoming damp with sweat. He drops her hips, hands sliding on silk stockings before he plants them in the blankets. "Loves to fuck your sweet cunt with his cock...."